three words too many
by sparklylulz
Summary: All of those things led him to see that over the course of time he had fallen in love with her. It seemed so obvious now - the way he watched her and made sure she got home all right. Everything he had done had been because he was in love with her. -Simon/Alisha


**A/N: Just a small Alisha/Simon piece until I can get piece four of Angels on the Moon out. Hope you enjoy it. It's kind of fluffy, sometimes the fluff got carried away, so sorry if this seems OOC. On another note, this is my 50****th**** piece on here! (:**

**three words too many**

**or**

'_**three times alisha told simon she loved him **_

_**& the one time he told her'**_

**1. i really fucking hate orange.**

She wasn't really sure when sleeping at Simon's, (proper Simon, from the future; not the Simon shagging Jessica), had become a regular thing. Somewhere between texting him constantly and worrying about him just as much, it just seemed natural that she spend as much time with him as possible. It wasn't like he told her not to, but now that she thought about it; he never really told her she _could_ stay either.

That was thing about Simon, present or future, he never really said more than he had to. It could be really irritating but at the same time she sort of enjoyed his silence. Sometimes, early in the mornings or late at night she could hear him singing softly. It was always the same sad song. Sometimes she wondered what it was, but mostly she felt she didn't want to know.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked quietly as he turned to see her dark eyes scrutinizing him. He'd just gotten home from his latest escapade of saving whoever needed to be saved. Her Simon, such a bloody superhero.

"I really fucking hate orange." She spoke gently, her eye brows creasing together as she gazed at the orange hoodie that was covering up his bare chest underneath. He just grinned at her and walked towards her place on the bed.

"Oh, really?" He asked huskily, gently pushing her back against the bed. "Yeah, really." She whispered back, his lips brushing her neck, causing a gasp to escape her lips. It was ridiculous how easy he could make her turn to jelly.

"Funny, since you bought it for me." He laughed, pulling his head back to look at her incredulous gaze. She shook her head, "Why the hell would I buy that for you?" she asked, pulling the zipper down, allowing his body to rest comfortably between her dark thighs.

"Said it reminded you of the days picking up litter with me." His lips had moved down her neck to her collarbone and she could feel him harden against her leg, causing her to buck against his body.

"You make me so fucking weird and for some strange reason, I love you for it." She whispered, causing his movements to still, he looked up at her, eyes full of pain and surprise as he watched her reach up to stroke his cheek with her soft fingertips.

"If I weren't weird, I wouldn't be here right now." With that he lowered his lips to hers, in a motion to silence her and she realized as she pulled the jacket off him that she _really_ needed to get him an orange hoodie next time she was out.

**2. i swear to god, you're so fucking difficult.**

He had been dead for a month, but she still couldn't bring herself to leave his flat. It was like she was expecting to just walk in one day and hear him in the shower or see him watching those clocks. That would never happen again, he lay in ashes on the floor of a cold storage building, and all the clocks now read zero. His work there was done; he had left that world and her in the space of five minutes.

She was going out with the group tonight; it was the first time that she really allowed herself to do anything other than think about _him. _Especially when he stood right fucking in front of her every day, knowing that his virtue wasn't hers to take. She groped around for the orange hoodie lying on the bed next to her.

For a few days after his death when she could think properly, she thought about going home and just taking the photographs with her, but something inside her wouldn't allow her to just… leave. She hated having a fucking heart most days, because it was continuously ripped out and she didn't like doing this depressed bullshit. She just wanted to laugh again.

Everyone was already gathered at the pub when she entered, the hoodie wrapped tightly around her arm. It was Simon's birthday, which was painful enough, so instead of getting shit faced and ending up in a ditch for the night, she simply sat back, sipping on a beer. Simon seemed out of place, but then again he was _always _out of place.

She sighed after two hours of sitting on the same barstool, watching everyone else having a good time. Before she really knew what she was doing she was on her feet contemplating having a fag before going home. Her feet followed a path out to near the rubbish bins in the back. She just leaned against the cool brick wall, remembering her Simon.

The sound of a door shutting caused her eyes to snap open while the rest of her turned to see who was lurking about in the dark. What she found was Simon, leaning against the opposite wall, obviously not knowing someone was watching him, which meant he must have been invisible just moments before. His eyes found hers after a moment in the wide eyed gaze he gave Nathan sometimes.

"I… had to get ou-out of there for a bit." He stuttered, pushing his body off the wall. Moving hesitantly towards her, causing her heart to race, but she smiled in reassurance at him.

"I know the feeling." She spoke, dropping the cigarette between her fingers and grinding it into the pavement with her small foot before blowing the smoke from her lips. His eyes never left her face, it seemed that studying her was something that Simon never lost.

Without understanding why she was doing it, she found herself pulling the orange hoodie that she had once hated off her arm. She held it out to him, whether because she needed to let go of it or because she just wanted him to look like the future Simon, she couldn't be sure.

"What's that?" He asked, his eyes wide again, like she was offering him the severed head of a pig or some shit.

"It's a jacket, Simon. For your birthday. Sorry I didn't wrap it- I'm shit with wrapping paper." She lied easily, watching as he continued to simply the stare at the jacket as if she were going to jerk it back away from him.

"I swear to god, you are so fucking difficult sometimes. Just take it." She commanded in an irritated tone. He reached out and pulled he soft material from her grasp.

"But... why?" He looked down at the 'present' in his hands and back up at her. She sighed once more, knowing that he could never understand why she would want anything to do with him. If only he could see how much better than her he really was.

"You're my friend. Sometimes you're like my fucking best friend." She spoke confidently, looking down at the jacket, "When you wear it I'll always remember picking up litter on the roads, probably the best time of my life." She smiled sadly, her ex lover's words running through her mind as she watched him smile at her tentatively.

"Look, Simon, I know I was rude to you before," She spoke softly, voice full of regret, "But I was wrong. You're actually quite cool. You can be weird as fuck, but that's one of those things I love about you." Her nerves making her voice shake. He simply smiled back her, in that crooked way that made her heart melt.

"Thank you, Alisha. That means a lot to me." He said gently. She nodded at him as she walked by, trying not to cry.

She knew that he meant it when she watched him leave the pub later that night, orange hoodie pulled around him. The sight made her heart swell.

**3. the invisible cunt**

It was late, near one or two in the morning, she had been walking home from a local concert. She knew that she shouldn't be out alone and shuddered at the thought of how Simon would've chastised her if he were still alive. If he were still alive, however, he would've been there to save her no matter what trouble she would have gotten herself into. She'd've pointed this out to him too, if he had been around to hear it.

Her feet beat the path back to the home she had made in the flat that haunted her every time she walked in the door. It was a cold night; the breeze was lifting the back of her hair off her neck, giving her an eerie feeling. She hurried her strides, allowing paranoia to sweep over her, she felt like someone was watching her. She could hear footsteps behind her and not in a comforting way.

Before she could register it, a man appeared in front of her, and as she turned to run another man appeared behind her, sandwiching her in between the two.

"Oh no you don't, sweet. Pretty girls like you shouldn't be wondering around at night. Bad things happen to 'em." One of the men sneered, reaching out to grab her wrist, sending a ripple of panic throughout her entire body.

"No!" She cried, but it was too late, the man's fingers were wrapped around her wrist and he was bearing down on her. He slapped her, hard, causing her head to spin.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't breathe, you stupid slag." The words went on and on and she couldn't throw his huge frame off of her as he began pulling her skirt up. She was crying because she knew that this was it. No one would save her.

Without thinking about it, she screamed his name as loud as she could. She knew that it was no use, but it was her last option. "Simon! Please!" The words tore from her vocal chords as the offender ran his finger up her thigh.

She closed her eyes, preparing for the worst, when suddenly a thud and a grunt reached her ears. There was no longer anyone touching her. She knew her head was bleeding from where the man had hit her. She looked up groggily, seeing a blurred orange hoodie and a pale face.

"I love you, Simon, I love you, I love you." She whispered over and over as he leaned down to pick her up, carefully not making contact with her skin.

She felt herself falling into a dark hole and found she couldn't fight it anymore.

**4. i fucking love orange**

Simon watched her sleep on his bed, only slightly freaking out. Firstly that he had just saved her, secondly, that he had touched her moments before and nothing had happed, and thirdly that there was a girl on his bed. She let out a small moan, opening her eyes to look around her surroundings. It was sort of cute.

"You're okay." He offered quietly, causing her to look in his direction. He watched as she relaxed, a smile covering her face as she looked at him. He had never had anyone look at him like that before- like they were happy that he was there.

"Thank you, Simon. How'd you find me?" She asked, reaching up to touch her bruised forehead, wincing slightly as her fingers made contact with the tender skin.

"I… I followed you. I saw you leave the pub because I was out with Nathan. I... just wanted to make sure you got home safe." He confessed, feeling like a creep, pervert and a freak as he watched her face register what he had just said.

"Thank fuck for that." She sighed, leaning her head against the wall. "Simon?" She asked softly causing him to jump a little at the sound of her voice. "Come over here." She commanded, rather than asking. With Simon, it was always better to be firm when you wanted him to do something.

He obeyed her, because really, who would deny a beautiful girl like that? He sat nervously on the edge of the bed, staring at her, causing her to sense something was wrong with him. He knew she was going to ask, so answered before she had formed the question.

"I was checking on your head earlier; cleaning it up and stuff and-" But she also knew what he was going to say. "And you could touch me." She whispered, looking up at him. He nodded at her and she smiled.

"It's because we're in love." She said calmly, causing him to nearly drop the hoodie in his hands. He looked up at her, shock in his eyes, and she laughed a little.

"I know. But… I do love you, Simon. I have for a long time, and I hope I will for a lot longer." With her words came a rush of all sorts of memories back to him. Of them sitting together at lunch and killing probation workers; of that night she gave him the orange hoodie and told him that she loved how weird he was.

All of those things led him to see that over the course of time he had fallen in love with her. It seemed so obvious now; the way he watched her and made sure she got home all right. Everything he had done had been because he was in love with her.

"I- I think I'm in love with you too." He whispered, almost scared to say the words. She let herself grin at him, reaching up to touch his face, sliding her hands down his arms.

Simon felt his heart swell as he leaned his face down to hers. Kissing Alisha was like a hurricane. She was beautiful and ferocious, but loving in a way too. He pulled her into his shoulder, reaching up to set the orange hoodie on his head board.

"I love orange on you." She murmured, more to herself than him. He smiled into her hair, kissing her bruise.

"I just love you." With that, she lay her head on his chest, tracing nothings into the skin, finally feeling whole since the future version of the boy holding her had died.


End file.
